


The Mountain's Heart

by taichara



Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-16
Updated: 2015-06-16
Packaged: 2018-04-04 16:50:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4145322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taichara/pseuds/taichara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three perspectives on the battle at Nibelheim Reactor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. At the Mountain's Heart ...

Deep in a darkened mountain's heart, the earth cries shining tears from the wound mankind has given it.

Deep in the darkened mountain's heart, the earth's tears turn men into mindless beasts.  
Some things were not meant for mankind to own.

To steal away the earth's tears, mankind has carved away the heart of stone and set in its place   
a twisted mass of bright crimson steel and frosted glass,   
a shimmering core of earth's-power,   
a terrible womb created by artifice and producing monstrosity.

To be a monster is but a little price to pay, to steal away the power of gods.

In a wrought-metal womb in a darkened mountain's heart, some found bitterness; some found blood; and some found the truth.


	2. ... A Bloodied Moon

It is indescribable, the flood of emotions that overcome him as shock follows shock and horror follows horror.  
One thing, and one thing alone is certain: this monster is not his commander.   
This is something else, foreign, alien, inhuman.

He shakes night-dark mane from eyes like the moon, and lifts the great grey blade in warning.

_'Thus far, and no farther.'_   
_This is as far as you're going to get._

He doesn't really believe it, of course; the shining starlight Fury standing before him can and will cast him aside in an eyeblink.   
But he has a duty -- to his people, to the girl fallen at his feet, to his lost commander -- and he will not let this monster win without a fight.

Wolf-grey shears against pale silver as wicked metal screams against each other, and the maddened eyes before him gleam like reddened sea-green fire.

_No, there's no escaping this one._   
_Always hoped to out with a bang, anyway._

The midnight swordsman fights a defensive battle now, buying time while his soft dark voice tries to find reason in the madness dancing a death-pattern before him.

_What did you see that caused you so much grief?_   
_Why are you throwing away everything you taught?_

_It doesn't matter, does it. You don't know anymore._

The brightness of the battle through the dull scarlet of that metal womb flickers and flares, and finally turns to blood.   
There is not enough time to even register pain as the wicked silver sliver dances past the grey blade and strikes towards the heart.

Blood fades to darkness, as the sound of metal shearing begins anew.

_... Dammit, kid, I tried ..._


	3. ... A Blackened Sun

His heart sank somewhere into the darkest of pits, once he had navigated the forbidding labyrinth of scarlet beams and plunged into the heart of the manmade beast.   
The tang of blood -- cloying, sweet -- and the single cry of pain; these were too much, he was too late.

Racing on shaking legs, heart denying what eyes can plainly see,   
the forgotten one tears the concealing helm away from hair like silken sunlight, knowing full well that he can do nothing.

_I should have said I was here sooner!_   
_I should have known something was wrong ..._

Bitterness wells up black and cloying as he gathers her to his breast, barely able to see through tears the crimson seeping stain, or the agonizing battle raging above his head in the mountain's heart.

He had thought so much of his shining cavalier. So much for heroes in shimmering white.   
Heroes are maned in midnight and fight to keep inhuman madness at bay, heedless of the betrayal of both sides.

But he is a small and helpless thing, compared to the darkness and the light.

_... Couldn't do much. Too full of fear, and too ashamed._

_I failed you once._   
_But never again._

The flow of blood stills under steady hands, a moment before a sudden mist of crimson sprays across him.   
He looks up from her in time to see a wolf-grey blade fall from leaden hands, as the moon-bright eyes slide closed and the dark mane falls from his sight.

Silver madness lifts its bloody blade, and he has had enough.

Sun-bright heart stained betrayal-black, he leaves her with a caress and takes up the fallen wolf's-sword to drive it through a monster's heart.

_Never again_   
_Never again --_


	4. ... A Falling Star

The sharpest pain is that of betrayal, and of loss. 

That pain is all but buried now, in the brilliant white fires of enlightenment and unholy retribution.   
They will pay for what they have done, the star-haired seraph says with silent words to the quiet one in her chains above.

It shines in his eyes, like shimmering sea-green witchfires.

_Humanity is a crude beast._   
_They will suffer for what they have done to you._

The girl-child is less than nothing; wicked silver sings through the air, and she is gone.   
A sharp pain pricks at him, briefly, as the slender body crumples, but it washes away in the madness tide.

The midnight swordsman lifts his wolf's-blade in warning, pain and regret in moon-shining eyes. With bitter joy in a voice deep and torn, he lifts his own shining silver fang in answer, and advances.

_Poor fool, it's time to die._   
_You and all who serve them._

_Honourless beasts._

For a lesser creature the night-maned warrior shows promise; but that would be expected, trained at the hands of the one chosen by the earth.

It is not enough, however, and the human falls, sweet scarlet dimming his eyes and staining his night-black mane.   
Only then does a blur of sunshine and a cry of bitter anger make the shining one pause in his thoughts of descent among the killing fields.

_The little one roars now, does he?_   
_What can he do, against his better._

Snatching up the great grey blade, the sun-bright fledgling charges. But he is unconcerned, witchfire eyes shining fever-bright. 

One parry, two; too easy, this.

He is unprepared for the sudden skill fed by betrayal and grief. 'Lord, what fools these mortals be' ...   
Keen grey agony bites down deep, and he is falling, falling.

The earth's tears envelop him, shimmering silver and trailing crimson into the cool blue-green of the life around him. 

And still he falls, and it never ends. And he smiles through the pain.

_The power is here, Mother._   
_Wait for me._


End file.
